


Flood

by TsarinaTorment



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarinaTorment/pseuds/TsarinaTorment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm has left the canyon at Double Cross a raging torrent, but the Announcer decides to proceed with the mission nonetheless. Character study turned story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flood

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this can also be found on fanfiction.net
> 
> I don’t own Team Fortress 2 or its characters.

Scout glared out at the sun as it dared to peak out from behind the storm clouds. He liked the storm, thank you very much, and the ceasefire that it had brought on. Now, however, he realised that they’re have to go out onto the battle field, to be killed multiple times in varying ways – from a quick headshot to a slow and painful burning – all for the sake of money, and a rivalry that never showed any signs of ending. Not that he was complaining about the money, mind you. All except the very basics that he required to live on was sent to his Ma back in Boston, to keep her and his numerous brothers afloat. When he was younger, he’d never imagined that he’d become the main breadwinner in the household. Most of his brothers had failed to find themselves jobs, mainly due to their criminal records. Scout himself would be in the same boat, if he had not been approached after a particularly nasty gang fight that had left most of the opposing gang dead or incapacitated by Miss Pauling – such a hottie – and given an offer that he just couldn’t refuse. Regardless of what his teammates thought, he was not stupid. He knew that with his childhood the best future he could hope for was life imprisonment so when he was offered the chance to become immortal (only during battles) and fight for a living he knew that it was more than he deserved. Especially when he signed the contract and saw how much he was to be paid. He thought it excessive, although he was careful not to mention this to his employers in case they decided that he could do with a paycut, until he started. After the first day, he realised that ‘immortal’ had not meant what he’d expected, after several trips through respawn. After experiencing death so many times, and in so many ways, he understood why they were being paid so much. His Ma didn’t agree with his job, but she realised, like him, that it was more than he or any of his brothers could ever have hoped to earn, and so long as he came home in one piece at Christmas she had no reason to pull him out. Not that she could, what with the contract he had signed, but she didn’t know what the exact contents of that was. And he had no intention of telling her that it was for the rest of his life. Which would be until his speed – which was what had prompted Miss Pauling to approach him in the first place – lessened until it was no longer his advantage. At that point, he knew, he would no longer be useful to them and more likely than not would be terminated. He’d never been expressively told that, but the implications were there and, as he said earlier, he wasn’t as stupid as most people thought.  
He surfaced from his reverie when the rain stopped, water droplets no longer falling on him. Not that it mattered – he’d been out there so long he was soaked to the bone. He turned his back on the sun and re-entered the building, avoiding the other mercs as he headed straight for his room to dry off. Medic was good, but none of his equipment was suitable for curing colds, or even hypothermia. All that would happen would be that he was confined to the medbay and having to sleep with one eye open in case the insane doctor decided to use him as a test subject for one of his weird experiments. It had happened before, and Scout was not willing to go through it again. So with this motivation he threw off his dripping clothes and had a quick, hot, shower in his private en-suite (thank God for that – he hated showering with other people around) before pulling on his uniform and grabbing his faithful bat before leaving the room to locate his teammates. As he entered the communal area to find it empty he heard the Announcer.

“Battle begins in 60 seconds.”

That explained where everyone had gone, but why was he the only one to have not known in advance, he wondered as he put his greatest asset to use as he sprinted to the respawn room. For his teammates’ sakes, he hoped they were already there. He’d make it in time, because of his speed, but none of the others would, and tardiness was not accepted in this line of work. It got you killed. Permanently. He skidded into the room as the Announcer proclaimed that they had 30 seconds remaining, and noted that he was, indeed, the last to arrive. Soldier drew breath to shout at him but Demo got there first.

“Where ye been, lad? Didny’a hear her earlier?” Scout shook his head and grabbed his headset from its place in his locker, jamming it on over his hat.

“10…” Scout tuned out the countdown as he crouched by the balcony, ready to jump to the floor below. They were at Double Cross, and as such was guaranteed to be a ‘Capture the intel before they get ours’ mission. The countdown ended and he propelled himself off the balcony, ready to sprint for the intel. He faltered slightly when he realised that he had landed in about an inches’ worth of water. That made things harder, although at least the enemy Pyro was not such a threat. Out the doors he ran and out onto the narrow bridge. Immediately he had to dodge as an arrow came whistling towards him, courtesy of the opposing Sniper. Adrenaline took over, as it always did and he wove his way to the opposing base. He made it to the room that housed the intel with little problem – and knew that his counterpart would have done the same (it was easy for someone of their speed to reach the opposing base with no injury) – before slowing and assessing the surroundings. The Engineer was bound to have set up sentries to protect the intel – he knew Engie had done so – and he took a quick stock of their positions before darting in and grabbing the briefcase. Escaping also went without a hitch – he ran rings around the lone sentry, noting a lack of the Engineer, before darting back out, now slightly slower due to the case on his back. And that was when it all started to go wrong. First he was met by the Pyro, but as he’d already surmised they were useless in the flood and so easily went down from one blast of his scattergun without causing any damage to him. Next was an Über-charged Heavy and his accompanying Medic. Scout cursed, then jumped to the other side of the sand piles to dodge the roaring minigun as he continued his mad dash back to base. Just as he was about to reach relative safety an arrow struck his leg. The Sniper had got a lucky strike. His leg buckled and he fell off the bridge and down onto the railtracks beneath it. Ordinarily, this would not have been a problem, but with all the rain there was a healthy flood down there. The water behind him gained a red tinge as he bled and he knew that he had to get out of there. Especially when he heard an ominous rumble of thunder. Surrounded by water as he was, one lightning strike in the vicinity and he was toast. The heavens re-opened and Scout was hit by a sudden deluge of water. In a panic, he realised that with his injured leg and the heavy briefcase, he had no hope of swimming against the current that was slowly but surely pushing him away from Double Cross. The ice-cold water, helped by his wound, sapped at his strength just as efficiently as a Spy could sap a sentry. He entertained the thought of suicide, just to get back to respawn – the intel could wait; it would reappear in the base soon enough for him to reclaim – when he realised that he was likely outside the respawn barrier. If he died, he’d die. With this realisation he did the only thing he could think of. Reaching for his mike, he brought it as close to his face as he could and called for help. Predictably, Medic was the one that replied, asking where he was and how bad his injuries were – assessing if respawn was the better option, no doubt.

“Fell off the bridge,” Scout gasped. “Sniper got me in the leg. Water’s pushing me away. Think I’m outside respawn. Got the intel.” Panic and the cold forced him to speak in short sentences as he gasped for air, watching the water tumbling down the sides of the canyon towards him, reinforcing the water and making it hard for him to fight the current. He heard Medic reporting his predicament to someone as he struggled to keep his head above water, undercurrents making themselves known as they tried to drown him. He’d given up fighting the direction of travel, instead keeping an eye out for something to cling to – an outcrop of rock, even plants would do at this point. Just as he was about to give up and accept his fate – Medic muttering in his ear about how he couldn’t do anything to help him made his situation all the more real – he saw an outcrop, just as he was hoping. The water lead him straight to it, smashing his body against it mercilessly – Scout felt several ribs break – and he grabbed for it, somehow finding the strength to climb up. It was a tall plateau, exactly what he needed, and away from the edges so the cascading water didn’t hit him and he flopped onto it in relief, grateful for the respite. His entire body hurt – muscles seizing up from the cold and smashed ribs abusing his insides – so he stayed as still as he could. Looking back the way he had come, he could just about make out Double Cross in the distance, flashes of blue and red indicating that the battle was still in full swing. Realising the only way that his team had a hope of winning, he pushed the briefcase away from him, letting it drop back into the raging torrent.

“I dropped it,” he panted into his mike. “Someone – go get it. We have to win.” He heard someone – Engie, he thought, acknowledge him and relaxed, completely exhausted. “A-and. T-tell Ma… Tell her that I’m sorry,” he sighed, knowing that he was dead. Safe as he was on the rock, no-one could reach him and his injuries were sapping what little strength he’d managed to maintain as he bled out. By the time the water calmed enough to allow access to him, either his injuries or hypothermia would have finished him off.

“Don’t talk like that!” Soldier barked in his ear. “You will live, you hear me. True men don’t let a little water best them.” Despite the harsh words, Scout could hear the worry in his voice.

“Pyro’s got the intel,” Sniper said suddenly. A moment later there was a cheer as the firebug returned to the base, winning them the mission.

“At least we won,” Scout sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Herr Scout!” Medic’s voice cut through him. “Stay avake! Ve are coming for you.”

“D-don’t bother,” Scout whispered. “I’ll be dead before you get here.” His teeth began to chatter as the anticipated hypothermia set it. “B-bye, g-guys.” With that he let his eyes close and waited for death.

“-out?” cut through his consciousness, not loud enough to have come from his headset. “Scout!” Scout? Who was Scout? Why couldn’t they leave him alone? He moaned at them in protest but the insistent voice was joined by others. A sudden pain in his leg made him cry out in protest and his eyes cracked open just enough to see a fuzzy person looking down at him. Funny, they had a yellow head. “Come on, son. Wake up.” He squinted at them in annoyance and watched them come into view properly. His head wasn’t yellow, he realised. He was wearing a yellow hat. A gloved hand gently patted his cheek in an attempt to wake him and he moved his head away. “Scout. You need to wake up.” Slowly his consciousness returned to him enough to put a name to the irritating voice, and the face of the man bending over him. Engie. Why did that seem important? Engie…  
It all came flooding back to him – getting shot, falling into the raging torrent, throwing away the intel. Saying goodbye…

“Engie?” he murmured as the face finally came into sharp focus. The Texan grinned at him.

“Good to have you back, son.”

“Herr Engineer,” another familiar voice began – Medic. “Ve cannot move him far. Can you set up a teleporter?”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Engie said. He stood and retrieved the necessary blueprints. Soon the familiar sound of a teleporter whirred into existence. Engie returned to Scout’s side and picked him up, presumably at a signal from Medic. Short as he was, the Engineer was hardly weak and he carried the semi-conscious Scout through the teleporter with ease. As they materialised, Scout became aware of the other mercs beginning to crowd round as Engie placed him on a bed – the teleporter appeared to have led straight into the medbay.  
“Give ze boy some room!” Medic snapped as he emerged, shooing them all away as he brought his giant medigun to face Scout’s battered body. The machine whirred to life and Scout felt his ribs realigning. As usual when under the effects of the gun, there was no pain, just the strange sensation of feeling his body put itself back together. Soon it was over and Medic cut through bandages that Scout hadn’t even noticed had been wrapped round his chest.

“Zhere is no need for zhese any more, ja?” he said as he removed them. Scout managed a lopsided grin.

“Thanks, Doc.”

Unfortunately, the gun did nothing for the hypothermia and so Scout was bundled up under several layers of blankets and told to sleep. Despite his misgivings about sleeping in the medbay he soon went under, welcoming the darkness.

When he next woke, the following morning, he saw Medic approaching with a wicked grin and a needle in one hand. Scout didn’t even pause to think – he threw off his covers and fled the room, accompanied by the laughter of the doctor. Scout vowed to never again fall ill near the man. Medic hounded him into the communal area, where the other mercs were waiting.

“Good ta have ya back, mate,” Sniper said. Scout froze as Heavy grabbed him in a massive bearhug.

“Leetle Scout is safe,” he cheered. Scout watched Medic arrive in the corner of his eye and tried to get away, until he realised that the doctor was no longer holding his instruments.

“You seem to be cured,” he chuckled. Scout glowered at him when he realised that Medic had frightened him on purpose.

“That was not funny!”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first TF2 fanfiction done. This is just my headcanon Scout and how I think he would react in the situations I threw him in. Yes, I do think he’s more intelligent than more people give him credit for – he wouldn’t have been employed by RED/BLU if he wasn’t smart enough to strategise, I don’t think. But yeah, that’s just my headcanon. Also, you may have noticed that I never specify which Scout he is. This is just because I couldn’t decide because I like BLU better but RED always seems to pop into my head so I would have just ended up confusing myself.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading – sorry it started off weird/finished weird because I started off having no idea where this was going!
> 
> Tsari


End file.
